


Strong Like Molly

by echolehane



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echolehane/pseuds/echolehane
Summary: The move from LA to this tiny town has Buffy thinking her life is terrible. That is, until she meets Faith Lehane, the finest girl she knows. // An AU based around the movie Gold Diggers: The Secret of Bear Mountain.





	Strong Like Molly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tobiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiko/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMARA. I love you loads and I hope this does it justice.
> 
> There will be more chapters in the future, but I wanted to post this on your birthday.

The wind from the open window blows Buffy’s hair back from her face as they bump down the dirt road. Or, what feels like bumping down a dirt road to Buffy. Whatever happened to the four-lane sealed highway, with the million other cars? She misses that. Already.

“Mom,” Buffy turns from the window to face her mother in the seat beside her, “I don’t like it.”

“You haven’t given it a chance, Buffy,” Joyce turns from the road briefly, flashing a smile at her oldest daughter. “Just give it a chance, please.”

Buffy huffs a sigh and turns back to face the window, already loathing the smell and the sun and the lack of socialisation.

“I like it,” Dawn chirps up from the backseat. Buffy rolls her eyes.

 

They pull up in front of the old house after what feels like eons to Buffy. She’s pretty sure she’s already turned fourteen, and eighteen, and twenty-one, just in the car ride alone. Plus, being trapped in a confined space with her younger sister for too many hours is enough to age anyone prematurely.

“Start taking your things upstairs please, girls,” Joyce says as she steps out of the car.

The house is large, airy and bright, everything a beautiful country house should be. _But that’s exactly what I don’t want._ Buffy picks up a box that has her name written in large Sharpie on the top, grumbling under her breath that it’s too bright, the house is too big, and why is there a yard? They don’t need it.

Dawn’s raced upstairs first, empty arms, and picked her bedroom, so Buffy is left with the only other one that isn’t the master. Luckily, at only seven, Dawn’s still not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, and she’s left the larger room for Buffy, instead picking the one with the gorgeous skirting. Small flowered skirting is a small price to pay for a larger room, so Buffy’s happy enough to dump her box on the bed and claim this room as her own. It’s not overly large, but not small, just the right size for a thirteen year old girl. Well, for the summer at least. That’s all her mother has said, so that’s all Buffy’s planning on staying. She’s told her LA friends she’ll be back in the fall, and not to forget about her just because she spent the summer in some tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

They unpack the moving van and Buffy locates her boxes and puts them all in her room. Sitting there, surrounded by her things, the urge to just not unpack tempts her. It’s easier if she’s heading home at the end of the summer to just keep her things in boxes now. Saves packing again later. So instead she spends an hour or so rifling through boxes and finding where her things are, so she can find them later.

“Buffy, Dawn,” their mother’s voice rings out through the house, the large rooms and hallways amplifying her voice immensely. “Come downstairs.”

Dawn races downstairs – Buffy can hear the stomping on the steps – and she follows at a much calmer pace. At the top of the stairs, she can see her mother’s got the front door open and there are strangers on their porch. And her mother is inviting them in.

 _Great_.

Buffy descends the staircase and Dawn’s on her in an instant.

“Buffy!” she grabs her sister’s hand, practically dragging the blonde towards the newcomers. “Come say hi.”

“Great,” Buffy doesn’t even try to mask the sarcasm in her voice. They’re close enough to her mother for the woman to turn around and glare at her, but she can’t even muster up the energy to fake an apologetic smile. She just stares back at her mother defiantly, and then Dawn tugs on her arm.

“Buffy, meet Ira and Sheila Rosenberg. They have a daughter, Willow, who’s just finished eighth grade like you.”

“That’s great,” Buffy manages a bit more sincerity in her tone this time, looking at the couple and smiling.

“Actually, Buffy,” Joyce catches her attention again. “We don’t have any fresh food here, would you and Dawn mind picking up a few things for me?”

Buffy bites back the urge to groan, instead nodding and trying to behave for the guests.

“Do you have a list?” she asks, and Joyce hands her one. Buffy folds it and tucks it in her pocket as Joyce gives her the instructions on how to get into town. It’s not that hard, given there’s not exactly many streets to get lost on, and she nods through the whole description, impatient to work out her frustrations on her bike.

“Thanks sweetie,” Joyce calls after her as she heads through the front door.

Dawn has already brought their bikes to the front of the house, and she’s straddling hers, propping Buffy’s up with one hand.

“Thanks,” Buffy hauls herself onto the seat and takes off without a second thought, hoping there’s a dramatic dust cloud in her wake.

 

The ride into town makes Buffy slow down a little. The tree are actually kind of gorgeous, the atmosphere of the small town giving it such a life that it makes her second-guess how terrible the town is. The wind blows her hair back as she coasts down the street, using the hill to her advantage as she rolls to a stop just outside of the small grocery store. It’s nothing like Buffy’s used to, nothing like what she likes, but it’s something, and she hopes it at least has everything her mother wants.

Dawn stops beside her, starting to climb off her bike, when she cries out and smacks Buffy’s arm.

“What?” the blonde snaps, trying to follow Dawn’s eyeline. The small brunette then points, her finger directing Buffy’s gaze to a fight happening across the street. There’s a boy and girl that seem to be exchanging blows, with the girl apparently winning. Her dark hair is flying in her face, unruly as she appears, and then once she has the boy on the floor, she turns and takes off.

It so happens that her path of exit takes her straight past Buffy and Dawn where they sit, stunned, watching the scuffle. She’s pretty, Buffy thinks, in an edgy sort of way. The harsh lines of her face emphasise the dangerous glint to her dark eyes, raven hair blowing behind her as she sprints past. Buffy wonders how fast she is, if she’s as fast as Buffy herself. She looks like she could be. She also looks like what her mother would call ‘trouble’, so Buffy ushers Dawn inside and tries to put the rowdy brunette from her mind.

They head home, baskets full of groceries, and take them inside. Buffy half-expects the Rosenbergs to still be there – she knows how her mother can talk – but they’re gone, and it’s just their mother in the kitchen, unpacking plates and mugs.

“Here you go,” Buffy places her bag on the kitchen bench. Dawn follows with the lighter bag. “Done.”

“Oh, Buffy, I’m sorry,” Joyce gives an apologetic smile and Buffy feels like she’s about to be asked to do something else. “I forgot just a couple of things. Would you mind running back? You don’t have to take Dawn this time.”

“Okay,” Buffy bites back the sigh, remembering that this trip is for her mother, and she loves her mother. No matter how much right now she might want to scream.

Buffy takes the second list offered to her by Joyce and starts riding back into town. The route to the store is easy enough to remember, and it will go quicker if she doesn’t have to worry about losing her little sister along the way.

The trees line the road into town relatively thick, and Buffy kind of can’t help admiring them. There’s not exactly much forestry in LA, and they didn’t exactly travel much as kids. So this is quite new, and she hates to admit that it’s actually kind of pretty.

Her eyes are on the tips of the trees, watching how they bend slightly in the gentle wind, so she doesn’t see the brunette whirlwind that comes crashing out of the trees, across the road, and into her side.

Suddenly, the bike tips under the force and Buffy is thrown sideways, down the small hill from the road. Gravity is nonexistent as she tumbles through the scrub and dirt, finally landing gracelessly in a puddle.

Once she’s regained her balance, she stands up, looking down at herself in horror. The new blue shirt she had worn specially for moving day is now streaked up one side with mud. Her denim shorts are stained with grass and she can’t see her sneakers through the muddy puddle water but she’s willing to bet they’re not white any more.

Fury hits her hard and strong, and she turns to face her assailant.

“What the hell?!” she shrieks, staring at the girl who’s two feet away, picking herself up out of the same puddle. “You attacked me!”

“I did not!” the response is immediate and irritated. “You were the one who hit me with your bike!”

“As if!” At the mention of her bike, Buffy casts her gaze around to look for it. The front wheel is bent at an unnatural angle, but other than that it looks relatively okay. Her eyes drift again to her muddy clothing. “You _ruined_ my outfit!”

The girl laughs, standing up in the puddle. She’s about as dirty as Buffy is, except she is much less bothered by it. Buffy doesn’t even know what colour her shirt used to be, but it’s brown now.

“You hit me with a bike. I think there’s bigger problems than your outfit, city girl.”

“For the second time, _you_ hit _me!_ ” Buffy shouts again, trying to wipe the mud from her forehead before it drips into her eye. God, she _so_ doesn’t want to look in a mirror right now. She might just drop dead.

“Okay, okay,” the girl laughs again, low and gravelly. She pushes her long dark hair out of her face, leaving behind a streak of mud. “I may have hit you, but you were the one who landed us in this puddle.”

Buffy lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a scream, indignation rising in her fast. She stalks out of the puddle – trying hard not to look at her shoes – and over to her bike.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the girl tries to apologise, but the obvious laughter in her words makes Buffy think she really isn’t. “Need me to walk your bike home?”

“I’m fine,” Buffy snaps, not even turning her head to look at the stranger. She’s beautiful, but smug, and the combination irks her. “Thanks for the mud bath.”

Buffy starts up the hill, grateful it’s not as steep as it seemed while she was rolling down it. When she gets to the top, she turns and looks to see if her attacker is still there. Sure enough, the girl is standing in the puddle, looking up at her.

“Ride safe,” she chuckles.

Buffy ignores her, instead tugging her mud-soaked hair back into a ponytail and heading home.

 

The trip takes twice as long when she’s walking and not riding, and Buffy curses the dark-haired stranger with every step. How dare she come out of nowhere like that! How dare she push Buffy into a puddle! How dare she ruin new clothes!

When Buffy finally arrives home, Joyce is out in the backyard with a family that Buffy doesn’t recognise. Not that it’s unusual, Buffy knows that the only people she knows in this town are her family. And the Rosenbergs. And kind of the brunette that attacks her. But that last one doesn’t count.

“Oh my god, Buffy, what happened?” Joyce leaps up from the outdoor table as Buffy rounds the corner. She props her bike against the house, mud dirtying the white paint instantly, and practically snarls at her mother. If she wasn’t here in the first place, she wouldn’t have had to go get groceries. If she didn’t have to go get groceries, she wouldn’t have been attacked by some girl. If she hadn’t been attacked, she wouldn’t be covered head-to-toe in mud and in desperate need of a shower right now. So really, it’s her mother’s fault for bringing her here. Not to mention there’s a girl who looks about her age, dressed in a style Buffy adores, and instead of being able to finally meet someone here, she’s covered in mud and making what she knows is a truly _great_ first impression.

“Some girl ran into me,” Buffy starts bitterly, not even slowing in her pace as she tells her story. “We fell into a puddle.”

“Are you hurt?” Joyce asks, laying a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. The blonde shrugs it off.

“I’m fine. The bike’s worse off. I just need a shower.”

 

It turns out she doesn’t need just one shower, but _three_ to rid all the mud from her skin and hair. Not to mention the smell. When she emerges, her mother is preparing dinner and Dawn’s sitting happily at the kitchen bench.

“I want to go home,” Buffy slides into the chair beside her sister, putting her elbows on the bench and her chin in her hands.

“Buffy,” Joyce’s voice is only limdly exasperated, which Buffy thinks is a feat. “You said you would give it the summer.”

“I know,” she mumbles, watching her mother prep the food. “I still want to go home.”

 

It’s less than a week before she’s introduced to Willow and Cordelia, who just so happens to be the girl Buffy embarrassed herself in front of by showing up covered in mud with a broken bike. The incident seems pretty wiped from the other girl’s mind, however, as she greets Buffy pleasantly and doesn’t mention mud at all. Buffy wonders if she’s just being tactful. After spending just an hour with the brunette, she’s come to the conclusion that tact is not her strong suit and it’s more likely that she just doesn’t care about it.

“So, Buffy, were there any cute boys in LA?” Cordelia asks as Buffy picks another berry and puts it in her small basket. They’ve been out in the garden all morning and Buffy’s fielded many questions such as this. Apparently to people from small towns, LA is huge and bright and shiny and amazing. Sure, it’s still all of those things to Buffy, but she’s used to it. These two act like it’s the most incredible thing in the world.

“Yeah, sometimes,” she answers. She hadn’t really paid them much mind. Her focus was more on her friends and shopping, usually.

“Oh, that is _so_ cool,” Cordelia practically squeals, and Buffy fights the urge to roll her eyes. What’s the big deal with boys anyway?

“What was your school like?” Willow questions. The timid redhead hadn’t spoken much when they’d first met, but Willow has since progressed to full sentences and entire conversations, which Buffy thinks is kind of a feat. Her and Cordelia don’t seem to like each other much, but they both like her, so she’s not really complaining.

“You’re such a nerd,” Cordelia rolls her eyes, and Buffy ignores that in favour of answering Willow’s question.

“It was really big,” she replies, her mind still focused on picking the berries. Each time she adds one to her basket she feels a sense of accomplishment. Her mother had thought it would be a good ‘country’ activity, and initially she’d hated it. Now that she’s treating it like a game, a goal, it’s a bit better.

They keep asking questions, and Buffy keeps answering. Honestly, she doesn’t mind. It’s good to have friends so interested in her life, even if Cordelia seems more interested in LA than Buffy herself. She doesn’t get much of a chance to learn about Willow, though Cordelia is more than happy to provide details of her own life.

There’s a tree off to her left that Buffy realises she hasn’t searched under. She beelines for it, Cordelia and Willow following, and bends down. No sooner than she’s crouched, the sky starts to hail. Or, it seems that way. Behind her, Cordelia shrieks and backs away, but her first instinct is to stand up and assess the threat.

She can hear the source of the berry rain before she sees it, the telltale chuckle giving her away. It’s the girl from Buffy’s first day here, the one who pushed her into a puddle.

“Faith, what the hell?!” Cordelia is still shrieking, and then gets Willow to check and see if any berries are in her hair.

The brunette ignores her, instead nodding towards the two small baskets Buffy is carrying.

“Better be careful,” her voice is warning. “Those are poisonous.” She gives another nod. “These are fine though.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy looks down at her baskets, one in each hand, trying to interpret the girl’s – _Faith’s_ , she corrects herself – nods.

“You can eat these, but not those.”

“Well, which are these and which are those?” Buffy’s impatience causes her to stamp her foot. She has had a total of about two minute interaction with this girl and she’s already frustrated.

“On Tuesday, when it hails and snows,” Faith begins, and to any other person it might seem like a random line, but as she continues it triggers something in Buffy’s memory. “The feeling on me grows and grows-”

“That hardly anybody knows if those are these or these are those,” Buffy finishes in chorus, the irritated feeling from earlier giving way to something warm and fuzzy brought up by the poem. “You know _Winnie The Pooh_?” she questions. Most girls her age would have outgrown it, but since it was something her and her father had shared together, it would always hold a special place in her heart. And to hear that someone else knows it so well – even if that someone is Faith – makes her happy.

“Yeah, my dad used to read it to me,” Faith answers, and Buffy can’t decide if her voice is wistful or bitter, but she figures that if this girl is anything like she imagines, it’s probably a mix of both.

“Mine too!” Buffy finds herself grinning up at the brunette, noticing how her face seems softer now that she’s not so covered in mud. Her knuckles, once bloody from the fight Buffy had seen her in, are healing already, and the outfit is actually coloured, not just muddy brown.

“Oh my god,” Cordelia, having finally deemed it safe to approach, comes and stands beside Buffy. “Why are you even hanging around here?”

Faith just shrugs. “It’s a free country.”

“You’re not welcome.”

“Like I said, Queen C,” Faith gives Buffy a smirk as she starts climbing down the tree. “Free country.”

In one leap – from a height that Buffy deems far too high – Faith jumps and lands on the ground in front of them, smirk plastered on her face and eyes dancing with mirth.

“C’mon, let’s ditch them.”

“Buffy,” Cordelia catches her elbow and drags her a few feet away. “You can’t hang out with Faith.”

“Why?”

“That girl is trouble with a capital T.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy thinks back to seeing Faith fight, to the brunette pushing her in a puddle. She certainly does seem like trouble.

“Haven’t you heard?” Willow asks, quiet voice filled with awe. “Faith’s a thief. And her dad ran out on her and her mom.”

“She’s pretty much a delinquent,” Cordelia adds. “Be in prison by the time she’s sixteen, my mom says.”

Willow nods again. “Terrible influence.”

“She doesn’t seem that bad,” Buffy says, her brain replaying Faith’s smile again in her mind. Neither of her new friends look like Winnie the Pooh fans, and neither look as much fun as Faith does. She doesn’t seem like such a delinquent, at least not to Buffy. And that’s all that matters.

“Alright, tell my mom I’ll be home by dark,” Buffy offers her baskets – both the supposedly poison and non-poison baskets – to both girls. Probably in shock, Cordelia and Willow both hold out their hands and accept the baskets. “Thanks for showing me the berries.”

Buffy turns on her heel, and catches Faith’s eye. The brunette sees the sparkle in her gaze, and takes off without even a second glance. Buffy urges her muscles into action and runs after her.

 

Faith stops a way down the path, Buffy right on her heels.

 “Didn’t know you could run that fast, city girl,” Faith leans against a tree with a smug smile.

“I’m full of surprises,” Buffy retorts with a smirk. Faith doesn’t need to know she’s the fastest person in her grade. Doesn’t need to know she’s almost supernaturally fast, or at least that’s what her coaches used to say.

“Right,” Faith chuckles and nods, then starts walking down the path. Buffy follows, almost as though she doesn’t have a choice.

 

Faith shows Buffy the river, and tells the story of how she fell in. Multiple stories, really. She shows Buffy the town and tells her which stores are the best.  Buffy takes great joy in whining about walking everywhere, blaming Faith for her broken bike.

“So is it just you and your mom?” Faith asks as they head up a hill. Buffy’s almost too distracted by the gorgeous scenery to answer.

“Nah, kid sister as well,” she replies. “She’s seven.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“Left,” Buffy’s eyes drop from the mountains to the ground in front of them as her dad’s face swims before her eyes.

“Mine too,” Faith is quick to relate. “When I was eight.”

“Mine walked out last year,” Buffy says, slightly unsure as to why she’s spilling her life story to this practical stranger. She puts it down to the fact that she feels safe with Faith, that she feels like their friendship is already stronger than anyone else Buffy’s met here in town. She certainly feels better with the brunette than with Cordelia or Willow.

After a second, Faith tries to lighten the mood. “Do you reckon they miss it?”

“It?”

“Sex,” Faith answers with a laugh. Buffy can’t help but cringe at her use of the word, and that only makes Faith laugh harder.

“Shut up,” Buffy smacks Faith on the arm, which doesn’t help either.

“I reckon they do,” Faith continues. “I mean, they were married. ‘Course they do.”

Buffy starts to answer, only getting so far as opening her mouth before deciding that speaking about her mother like this is more than a million levels of awkward.

“You’re gross,” she scrunches up her face at the other girl.

Faith shoves her arm and takes off in an unspoken race. Naturally, Buffy follows.

 

Faith has insisted she walk Buffy home, given that the blonde is ‘new to the area’ and ‘probably couldn’t find her way home even if she had a map’. Buffy lets her lead, finding the new friendship worth it enough to give in on this count.

At the sound of a car on the road behind them, both girls turn and look. Buffy dismisses it once she realises she doesn’t know who it is. Faith, however, keeps watching the car as it approaches, and Buffy only looks back when it slows beside them.

“Hey pumpkin,” a voice says from inside the car, and Buffy knows instantly that they’re not talking to her. She has no idea who this lady in too much red lipstick is, nor does she recognise this man with an impeccable haircut and an odd smile.

“We’re goin’ to the pub,” the woman keeps talking. “Wanna come?”

“Aw, sweetie, no, look at Faithie and her little friend. They’re happy just the two of them,” the man says. Then his gaze turns to Buffy. “Hey, I’m Mike.”

“Janice,” the woman waves a little.

“Buffy,” she waves back.

“Well, Buffy, you and Faith wanna come?”

“No.” Buffy is surprised by the speed and intensity of Faith’s answer. “We’re good.”

“Let’s leave the two of them,” Mike says with a bit of a wave. “Bye girls.”

With that, the truck rumbles off down the road, and the two girls are left staring after it.

“Why are we so against going with them?” Buffy can’t help but ask.

“They’re only going to drink,” Faith doesn’t look up from the road as she answers. “Gonna get shitfaced and come home and it’ll be awful.” Buffy tries not to flinch at the curse word, and lets Faith continue. “So we’re gonna keep walking, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buffy answers with a bit of a nod, and they walk on.

 

They’re mostly quiet until they reach Buffy’s house. Faith stops at the edge of the driveway, just by the road, and Buffy stills when she does.

“See you tomorrow?” Faith asks, and Buffy thinks she detects a hint of hope in her tone. With a grin, she nods.

“See you tomorrow.”


End file.
